


Courting Blues

by scrapbullet



Series: Teen Wolf Drabbles [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha!Peter, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Human!Stiles, M/M, Peter has weird taste in gifts, cos you know how he gets, warnings for the Peter Hale Bad Touch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-22
Updated: 2012-09-22
Packaged: 2017-11-14 19:58:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapbullet/pseuds/scrapbullet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing is, it's a thoughtful gift. No, really. The bloody entrails of their enemies is totally a perfect kind of gift, in that weird let-me-demonstrate-how-I-can-protect-you-by-feasting-on-the-flesh-of-hunters kind of way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Courting Blues

**Author's Note:**

  * For [poemwithnorhyme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poemwithnorhyme/gifts).



The thing is, it's a thoughtful gift. No, really. The bloody entrails of their enemies is totally a perfect kind of gift, in that weird let-me-demonstrate-how-I-can-protect-you-by-feasting-on-the-flesh-of-hunters kind of way. Except that at the end of the day it's Stiles that has to clean up the mess, scrubbing at lacquered floorboards whilst his hands get all pruny.

There's nothing quite like getting bits of intestines under your fingernails, and by that he means it's _disgusting_. The flesh is smooth and slick and no matter how much he picks at his nails it just stays right there, pale and gleaming and practically mocking him with its presence. 

Peter doesn't like it when Stiles does this. But then, Peter is Alpha, and although his word is Law he just can't get Stiles to do as he's told. Human is as human does, and all that. 

He just stares at Stiles instead, eyes rimmed red and arms folded across his chest with a somewhat wounded expression on his face that Stiles just _really doesn't get_. 

Stupid werewolves.

"I thought you'd like it," Peter says. It's a little petulant, and Stiles rolls his eyes, rubbing at an old stain on the floor in lieu of, y'know, actually _stopping what he's doing._ "I killed them to protect you, to protect the Pack. The evidence would have been a sufficient deterrent to any rival Packs or Hunters passing through."

Stiles hears what Peter doesn't say. That in taking down the entrails from their lurid arrangement on the front porch he is negating Peter's attempts at protecting them. Stiles sniffs, grimacing. 

Tries not to feel a mite guilty, maybe.

"Look, Peter. This? This isn't _sane_ , okay? This isn't what people _do_. If we need anything, hell, we can get Deaton to mix us up-"

The growl takes him by surprise, but as he is wont to do, Stiles doesn't back down. Funny little death wish, that, and even as Peter shoves him onto his back and straddles him he stands his ground. Well. Metaphorically speaking. 

It doesn't last.

Staring death in the face isn't something Stiles enjoys doing and Peter is unhinged, madness unfurling from within as he bares his fangs and roars in Stiles face. It's an act that makes the Beta's cower in fear - Scott and Isaac and Jackson, but Derek never cowers, never, is much too stupidly brave for that - but Stiles only turns his head, arching his neck in a blatant sign of submission.

Self-preservation.

Peter chuffs against his neck, hot and damp. The scrape of teeth and claws is familiar, and Stiles knows what comes next.

"Why do you continue to do this, hm?" The lips dragging over his jaw are all too human, dry and chapped. "Why do you continue to push me? Do you want this? Do you want me to tear your throat out with my teeth, Stiles?"

Blood is pounding in Stiles' ears, and for a moment he shudders, unable to stop himself from envisioning just that; lying prone and struggling in the grip of a wolf's maw. 

"Because I'm the only one that will," he says, at last. "Because I'm _human_."

Peter sighs, and it sounds like disappointment and resignation. "Don't challenge me again, Stiles. You'll find that I only have so much patience." His kisses are as faint and breathy as air, and as much as it makes Stiles squirm he knows what Peter's like when he feels that he has to stake his claim. "Human or not, you're mine. That you don't appreciate my present is a shame, yes, but not something I'll lose sleep over."

Ooh, _ouch_.

Clawed fingers cup his jaw, clamping down tight enough for the fragile bones in Stiles' face to creak in protest. Peter hums, primitively satisfied, tipping Stiles' face around and _there_ , in his eyes, that's what makes Stiles' heart skip a beat in fear; affection. Fondness, really, and Stiles swallows thickly, knowing now that he'll never get out of this, at least not _alive_.

That Peter will never let him go.

"I'll just have to try harder next time," Peter says, and draws first blood.


End file.
